


Tales of the Ice Mechanic

by CallMeHux



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, IceMechanic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7001071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeHux/pseuds/CallMeHux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Ice Mechanic drabbles and one shots, which I will add to as the ideas occur to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello, Nurse

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-compliant as of the end of the season 3.

On the top of the lists of things they had to deal with in the wake of ALIE’s defeat were the injuries. Raven wondered at how she was the only one at Arkadia to escape another wound, but as she glanced at the long, red lines on her wrists, she figured she’d been scarred by the AI enough.

Abby had come back with the first wave of folks from Polis, Arkadian and Grounder, those too injured to be treated effectively there. Both Monty and Jasper were now stuck to IV antibiotic lines, with Harper trying to keep them both entertained as she sat between their beds. Without a computer program to fight, or a wall to electrify, or something to fix, Raven had been drafted into medical service. Mostly, it meant changing bandages, getting a bucket for the nauseous, but once in a while, with too many patients and not enough hands, it meant something more.

Like now.

Abby handed her something that halfway looked like needle-nose pliers, a bottle of solution, and some sterile bandages, among their last. “Just dig the bullet fragments out,” she instructed. “Then clean the wound. He’s already on the antibiotics, and as soon as I can, I’ll be by to stitch him up.”

When Raven tried to protest, Abby interrupted, putting both her hands on her shoulders. “You manipulate much smaller things than these when you’re building or repairing something. You can do this.” She added an encouraging smile and hurried off.

Raven turned towards the man, Roan, the Ice King, who was seated on the bed, his practically sculpted chest bare. Blood still oozed slowly from the bullet wound in his shoulder, the latest in what looked to be a long line of injuries, to judge from the rainbow of wounds. White from long-healed scars, blue from new bruises, green and yellow from old ones, even red from a newly-forming scar on his abdomen.

“I’m not a healer,” she warned him as she plopped the equipment down on the bed beside him.

“If your hands are steady, you don’t need to be. I can stitch myself up,” he told her, an amused smirk on his stupid, handsome face.

“Yeah, Abby won’t let you do that,” Raven scoffed, picking up the pliers. She hesitated, unsure of how to start when he spoke again.

“I won’t bite you,” he promised, voice dropping lower. “Unless you want me to.”

That pushed Raven into action. “Are you seriously trying to get me into bed right now?” she asked him, clapping her left hand rather harder than necessary on his injured shoulder, to steady him, she told herself.

To his credit, he merely snorted. “I’d prefer you take out the bullet first.”

“Well then, hold still.” Carefully, she edged the pliers into his wound. He sucked in a breath, almost holding it while she explored.

“I think you can breathe. Just not deeply,” she mentioned, glancing as his shuttered expression. 

“Just get the bullet out,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Using feel alone, it took several minutes to get the bullet, now in two pieces, out of his shoulder. When the second fragment clicked audibly on the tray beside him, he sighed gratefully.

“Funny, that something so small can cause such pain.”

Raven huffed. “Don’t I know it.” She set down the pliers and began to clean out the wound. 

He cocked his head at her curiously. “You’ve been shot?”

“In the back. Damaged nerves, can’t feel my lower leg, so brace,” Raven explained roughly, determinedly keeping her eyes on her task.

“You are still in pain?”

“Every day.” She eyed him briefly before offering over a bandage, brushing by the question. “Keep it covered until Abby gets back to stitch you up.”

She collected her supplies and got two steps away before he replied. “You didn’t say no.”

When she turned to look at him askance, he smiled. “To getting you into bed.”

“I didn’t say yes, either.”

As she stumped away, she heard him call out, “Not yet, you didn’t.”


	2. An Unkindness of Ravens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a tumblr post that figured out that Ice Mechanic shares a name. Modern-day fantasy AU.

Raven wasn’t exactly sure why she came. They gathered because they were bound to, following the pull of similarity, an affinity that time and distance and even dislike could not counter. But she was far too young to be one of them, exactly.

And it was annoying, to say the least, since most of them were called Raven. Maybe in a different language, but really, they had the same name. Anyone with that name would answer to “Raven,” would only hear “Raven” when someone else’s name was called, in their own tongue. For all so many of them were messengers, or bearers of knowledge, miscommunication was rife among them for that very reason. Of course, a fair number of them were tricksters too, so perhaps it all made sense in the way of the divine.

Some were distinct, like Huginn and Muninn, who maintained their bird forms at all times. It was terribly inconvenient, of course, requiring giant perches for them to use while the rest of the assembly contented themselves with chairs, like normal gods. Kutkh, shifting and dark, and Morrigan too, not that anyone ever addressed her as such. Everyone here was a god, but still, Morrigan had a cold fire temper that few would wish to confront and no one wanted her attention. 

The urge to come had convinced Raven of what she’d always suspected, somewhere in her mind. She was a god. Being fucking divine hadn’t been enough for Finn, but sometimes mortals spurned gods; the stories were rife with that particular tale.

They also told tales of those attracted to the gods no matter what the gods themselves wished. That explained Wick, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. But then, a lot of mortal men wouldn’t take no for an answer; the prisons were filled with them.

But she wasn’t one these gods. Her stories were just like those of a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million. An unknown father, a negligent mother, a lover to weep over and another to run from.

Yet she was still here, in this manor in British Columbia, far from anything resembling civilization. Probably because her father was here, somewhere. Her mother didn’t have a single drop of the divine in her blood, so it had to have been her father. He could have been any of them, in fact. Raven herself was Latina, but that was her mother’s blood; her father could’ve been Bran, or Corvin, or even one of the damned birds if he deigned to change form.

Certainly, no one rejected her when she arrived, when she asked for a room or took a seat at the ring of chairs in the ballroom. No one even gave her a second look. She was Raven, like they were Raven, and they knew it implicitly.

You’d think a meeting of gods would be more interesting, but mostly they were complainers. Complaining about insults millennia old, or how the mortals these days increasingly thought of them as cool stories. The closest some came to worship was when a particularly obsessed fan put together an over-detailed costume for Halloween. Absolutely none of that concerned Raven in the slightest. She was only here to find her father.

She had focused on Lugh, one of the Celts. Or Celt-ish. Raven had long since learned that the Celtic tradition was more muddled than anything, their gods and heroes and stories shifting all the time as mortals seized upon one idea or then another. They’d only really solidified in the last two centuries, and even those tales were contradictory. But she thought Lugh a likely candidate. A god of science and knowledge, of light. Raven herself was an expert in mechanics, physics, and computer science, following her natural inclination to a full scholarship at fourteen to a prestigious university. If Lugh was her father, it would make sense.

As she pondered this, the chair beside her filled with a man. He made no secret of his regard, openly looking her over. After a time, she boldly turned her head to stare at him in return. Skin tanned from the sun, a nose perhaps larger than fashion would allow, and light chestnut hair, shorn just below a sharp jawline enhanced by the scruff of a two-day beard. Even seated, she could tell he was an imposing figure, not so much unusually tall as fill-out, with well-defined muscles. But it was the ice blue of his eyes that really drew her interest, the keen intellect they betrayed.

A smirk emerged on his face. "We don’t often see a new Raven.“

Given how many Ravens are creators, I think that’s odd you’re not a more fertile lot,” she scoffed. "Which one are you?“

"I bet you can guess my name,” he drawled.

Raven sighed. "Couldn’t think of anything better to call yourself?“ She, at least, had been named that by her mother. Even if her mother was provoked by a divine force. Still. She hadn’t done it to herself. Not really.

"Actually, my mother named me,” he answered, waving with a lazy hand. Her gaze followed the direction of his gesture, straight to the Morrigan herself.

“You’re kidding.”

The woman was looking at them, her visage stormy. As Raven watched, her face completely changed, from a dark-haired fury to a beautiful woman of middle-age with nearly the same hair as her son but with green eyes to his blue.

“Macha,” he explained. "This version is my mother.“

Raven huffed. "She doesn’t seem pleased that you’re talking to me.”

“She hasn’t been pleased in eighteen hundred years.”

“Is that how old you are?” Raven snarked.

He laughed, then inclined his head. "Not hardly. I can’t say my appearance ever improved her mood.“

"Well, with that attitude, I think I can see why.”

“Actually, you’re the one with an attitude. I was being friendly,” he pointed out mildly.

Raven opened her mouth to retort, but realized he was right when she mentally reviewed her conversation. She settled for, “You were staring at me weirdly.”

“True,” he admitted. "As I said, a new Raven is a rarity.“

She looked at the others in the circle, some who appeared very old and other very young, and those seemingly every age in the middle. "Which is the next youngest?” she finally asked.

He leaned over and murmured, “You’ve been speaking with him.”

Raven glanced at the heavens, as if there was another god to complain to about this one. "And how are you? A millennia? A handful of centuries?“

He blinked, his mouth pulling in amusement. "I’ll turn thirty-five this coming November.”

“No…you can’t be that young,” Raven denied, flushing. She had been perfectly prepared to deal with ancient gods and elder gods. She wasn’t prepared for a man nearly her own age.

“If you exist, who’s to say I can’t?”

“What’s the Morrigan doing having a child now?” she blurted out the question before the thought really formed.

That got the goddess’ attention. She rose from her seat, causing the Raven currently droning on about the assault of comic books on their dignity to cease speaking entirely.

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” He stood, but not before grabbing her arm. "How about we trade our sad stories about our mothers over drinks? Somewhere far from here?“ he suggested, already pulling her away from the circle.

"Who said my story about my mother is sad?” Raven demanded, barely struggling against his hold. She’d much rather deal with this guy than his mother.

He scoffed at her and she looked away.

“Fine. But if I’m going to talk about my mother,” she began as she followed in his footsteps. "We’re going to need milkshakes, burgers and vodka.“

For all he was named after a bird, he grinned at her wolfishly. "I know a good place.”

As they fled, it belatedly occurred to her to ask, “What should I call you? Just Raven?”

“You can call me Roan.”

And for some reason, it didn’t sound like Raven.


	3. Hello, Nurse - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By request, here’s a drabble that continues from the first chapter Tales.

Raven hadn't avoided Roan in the days and weeks that followed her first foray into bullet removal. Nor was she following him, or tracking his movements through camp, or making note of when he happened to leave or return. Arkadia just wasn't very big and so it was completely natural that she should run into him once or twice everyday.

Their conversations were always brief, if they had one, and unfailingly something just short of polite. Such as the one they were having now, as they waited in the medbay for Abby's attention.

ALIE may not have had a body, but the mansion where she had lingered for a century had been fully equipped with medication and surgical equipment. Abby was hopeful that one of the drugs they had found there would help Raven with her pain management, so the mechanic was waiting for her first dose. 

Roan, meanwhile, had managed to get another stab wound, this one to his left forearm, in a scuffle with a man from the Desert Clan. Jackson hadn't deemed the injury serious, but concluded that the Ice King required stitches. He had given Roan a bandage to help stem the bleeding while he waited before helping Abby with the man from the Desert Clan, who required far more immediate attention.

"Just let me do it," Raven practically snapped at him, as he fumbled to cinch the bandage around his wound with one hand.

"I see any excuse to touch me will do for you," Roan retorted, though he didn't pull away as she plucked the bandage from his right hand.

"I just don't want you bleeding on me when you fail to tie this off," she denied, winding the cloth around his arm and pulling it tight.

"Are you trying to cut off the flow of blood completely?" Roan wondered, though he didn't wince at her treatment. 

She waited, but there was no follow-up. Everyday, for weeks now, he'd made a pass at her, and even she could think of one that would work in this situation. Something like... _Because there are far more entertaining ways to get my blood flowing in a different direction._

Surprised, she looked at him and asked directly, "What, no smart remark about getting your blood flowing?"

He gave her a serene smile and again, said nothing, though his gaze held all of the heat she'd expected to hear from him.

"Have you lost interest then? Am I free to go about my day without a proposition from the Ice King?" she needled, annoyed with him all over again.

"You know better than that." His voice was low, throaty, and gave her every assurance he was still very much interested. "If you don't want my attentions, you have only to say 'no.' But you haven't said no," he continued, mouth quirking.

Raven froze for a moment, hands still holding his arm. 

"I didn't say no," she acknowledged slowly, and, with sudden reluctance, released his arm. Perhaps she had more interest in him than she'd let herself admit.

Raven dimly heard Jackson calling for Roan, saying that Abby could see him now.

Roan leaned in, his mouth stopping mere inches away from her ear. "But you didn't say yes, either," he added, breath tickling the wisps of hair that curled on her nape. He pulled back, that half-smirk still on his face and inclined his head respectfully before getting to his feet and walking away.

As she watched his retreating back thoughtfully, she called to him. "Not yet, I didn't."


	4. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my submissions for @icemechanicfanfiction's June Fanwork Challenge for the prompt "beach." All mistakes are my own.

Raven stood at the windows in the dining room of the beach house, fishing out the last of the dumplings from the take-out container with one of the plastic forks. She rarely watched the sunrise, because normal people were definitely not up at this hour. But her sleep schedule had been all sorts of fucked up this week, which is why she was eating cold leftovers at five past five in the morning.

Movement caught her eye and she leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes to focus. After a moment, she spotted them, and a moment after that, she began to laugh.

"Holy shit, I think they're trying to have sex on the beach!" At least, that's what she tried to say.

"I don't speak dumpling-mouth," Roan said, coming up behind her. His arm snaked around her middle and he pressed his bare chest up against her t-shirt clad back to look over her shoulder.

She swallowed quickly, then repeated, "They're trying..no, they are having sex on the beach!" She shook her head. "Stupid bastards."

"Oh?" he asked, trying to take the fork from her to spear a dumpling for himself.

She pulled her shoulder away, shielding her food from him while still trying to watch the copulating couple. "Getting silica particulates where the sun don't shine isn't my idea of a good time." She shuddered. "And with the friction….blech."

"And yet, you're still watching them."

"It's like, really bad porn. I can't look away." Raven finally relented, handing him the box with the last dumpling.

"You would never have sex outdoors?" Roan asked, taking the container and flopping into chair at the table. 

"We built homes so that we can have sex in comfort. Having sex outdoors is basically going against everything humanity has been striving for," Raven explained patiently, still watching.

"Yes, it has nothing to do at all with the fact that you either fall asleep or become ravenously hungry after sex." Roan set down the empty box and looked over his shoulder at her. 

Raven couldn't help her grin. "So sue me if I want to fuck in a comfortable place."

"Are they teaching you anything useful?"

She snorted. "Please, I'm awesome at sex."

"Then leave them alone and come join me," he invited.

"If they're stupid enough to do this in public than I'm going to watch them," she replied stubbornly.

She heard him huffed in exasperation.

"My mother called me to her office before we left, to ask if I was going to propose to you on this trip and then to convince me not to do so."

Her head whipped around so fast, she almost gave herself a headache. "What?" she demanded.

He gave her a look that clearly said he had no intention of repeating himself.

"Well, what did you say to her then?"

"I gave her every assurance that I would not propose to you on this trip."

Raven burst out laughing. "That is _priceless_." She walked over to him finally, straddling his lap and grinning as his hands came up to her waist to hold her in place. "I hope to god that I'm there when she finds out."

Roan smirked. "My office is going to put out a press release on the twenty-third, at six o'clock in the evening."

The annual Azgeda Foundation gala, one the largest society events in the city, was scheduled for the twenty-third. 

Raven gave him an answering smirk. "Shit like that is exactly why I married you," she informed him, putting her arms around his neck loosely and shifting slowly in his lap. 

"She'll be even more upset when she finds out we don't have a prenuptial agreement," he informed her wryly, one hand slowly moving over her hip and down her leg.

"We totally have a prenuptial agreement," she disagreed.

"My promise to give you half of my fortune in perpetuity if I cheat on you and your promise to allow me to slander your engineering skills if you cheat on me is written on a napkin and is practically the definition of unenforceable," Roan informed her.

"Whatever," Raven replied flippantly. "We have one. It's in the bedroom right now. I'm going to get that shit framed," she promised. As another thought occurred to her, she asked, "When did this conversation with your mother happen exactly?"

"About four hours before I met you at the courthouse, as planned," Roan revealed, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice.

"The best part is that you didn't even lie to her." She'd practically dared him to marry her several weeks ago when they were at the Dropship Bar, half-drunk and suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity about how seriously he took their nearly two year relationship. He'd agreed quickly, they'd written up their ridiculous agreement and announced their wedding plans to select friends the next day. 

"When do I ever lie?" Roan asked, his hand coming up to brush some of the hair from her face tenderly.

"You don't," she replied. "I think that's why I love you," she added.

"Of course you love me. I'm awesome."

Raven laughed again. "Hey, that's my line."

Roan smiled triumphantly and leaned in to her. "We're married now. What's yours is mine," he murmured against her lips before capturing them with his own.


	5. The Best Perks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @rumaan, the second winner of my fic giveaway, who requested Ice Mechanic. Here’s a little Venture Bros. AU.

The best thing about working at the Office of Secret Intelligence was that they actually knew what's really going on out in the world and they had access to all the best toys as a result.  They knew which superhero was a really a dick and which guy from the Guild of Calamitous Intent was someone you'd like to share a beer with.  Raven knew for a fact that her boss Sinclair actually hosted a poker night with at least one Guildmember in attendance.  She was not sure what level "Randy" was in the Guild, or even if he was one of the costumed villains she'd heard of (because they are so many, who has them all memorized?), but Sinclair had nothing but nice things to say about him.

Not so much for this guy, though.  Roan Eisold was one of the best agents at OSI.  Just ask him.  Of course, his record was nearly spotless and he was practically the only guy who could give Brock Samson a run for his money (but not defeat, because Samson was a fucking unstoppable killing machine, okay, and everyone knows to stay out of his way), and he'd completed at least forty-seven secret missions, and probably more secret-secret missions, because she doesn't have the clearance to know about them.

He was also a tremendous asshat.  

Roan and his ilk were the worst thing about working at OSI.  Lecherous he-men with inhumanly defined musculature who seemed to think that the size of their biceps could make up for the size of their brains.  Of course they thought every woman wanted them.  

Raven crossed her arms as he continued to complain about one of her devices, scoffing as his ice-blue gaze dipped towards her cleavage.  The normal OSI tech uniform was a standard issue worksuit, but it got hot in her lab all the time and she usually unzipped the top to get some air.  

"Your device failed and nearly cost me the target," he told her in that rumble of a voice.

"Excuse me, my devices do not fail," Raven denied.  "It's an accelerated taser wave, meant to knock out everyone in a forty-foot radius.  It worked exactly as designed!"

"It knocked me out!"

"Yeah, what did you expect to happen?  That you would be magically immune?"

"Tasers don't normally knock out the person holding them!"

"You're not supposed to hold it!" Raven exploded.  "Didn't you read the instructions?  You set the device, you get out of dodge, you knock everyone else out!  Not my fault you used it improperly!"

Roan paused, head tilting to one side in consideration.  "That was not how the device was explained to me."

"Well, that's not my fault.  Go yell at which ever moron did the explaining," she instructed smugly.  

She became somewhat less smug as his gaze raked over her and she cut him off before he could follow up with some sort of witty banter.  "Save it.  I'm not interested in whatever flirty comeback you have.  Not interested in what you're selling, move along."

He snorted.  "The only thing I am selling is an apology, but as you wish, Miss Reyes."  He inclined his head in a rather formal gesture and strode off.

And Raven kind of thought that would be the end of it.  She'd get a look at his objectively fantastic ass as he walked out of her door and she wouldn't see him again.

But she was wrong.

Two days later, Roan returned to her lab with a large box which he gently laid on an open spot on her workbench.

Raven wiped her hands on a spare towel and cautiously approached.  "What's this?"

"An apology.  Your rudeness does not excuse my own," he informed her.

She rolled her eyes, but her curiosity won out.  Tossing her towel on the bench, she gingerly lifted the lid to find a state-of-the-art set of tools, from micro-pliers to a fine welding torch.  It was a beautiful set, but nothing she didn't have access to in her lab.  

"Uh..why?" she asked, eyes turning to him.

"These are for you, for your personal use.  To take home," Roan clarified.

Raven's heart began to hammer in her chest.  When she thought he'd requisitioned her some new tools, she didn't think very much of the gift.  But when she realized he'd  _ bought  _ her the set, she couldn't quite believe it.

"You just dropped how many thousands of dollars on an apology?" she asked bluntly.

Roan shook his head, a slight smile on his face.  "Now, that's a rude question."

"I'm not used to apologies coming with price tags in the tens of thousands."  Raven's eyes narrowed.  "What do you really want?"

"You've got a gratitude problem, you know that?" Roan grumped at her.  "This is my apology to you.  I maligned your craftsmanship, forcefully, and here is my penance.  I asked around about you, and you're known as the best tech to come through OSI's doors in over fifty years.  I don't want  _ my _ lack of manners earlier to spoil what should be a good working relationship.  Is that explanation sufficient?"

Raven tore her eyes away from him to look longingly over the tools.  Her tools.  Her personal, never to be confiscated or returned tools.

"Yes," she finally told him.  "Apology accepted."

Roan smiled, just this side of a smirk.  "Excellent.  For now on, I will come to you for an explanation of all my mission's assigned devices."

"Wait, what?" Her attention snapped back to him, but he was already leaving.  "That's not what I agreed-"  The door to her lab shut.  "To."

Agents were the absolutely worst part of her job.  Wonderful presents aside.

But she got used to it, Roan showing up at her lab every so often, wanting a rundown of all his assigned pieces.  Their uses, their weaknesses, even some of their not-intended capabilities.  She found out he wasn't quite the muscle-bound agent most of the others were.  He understood her explanations quickly, asked intelligent questions.  

Roan started to come by after he'd wrapped up his missions, giving her as much of a rundown as he was able given her classification level.  Talking to an agent who was in the field more than almost any other gave her ideas for new gadgets or refinements to others.  Before she knew it, they'd be working together for almost two years and people at the base considered them a team.

_ She  _ considered them a team.

But that's all they were.  A team.  Despite the insinuations, and his occasional flirting, she was determined to keep their relationship professional.  The last time she'd dated a guy she worked with, Wick, had been a disaster.  She'd needed a new job afterwards. Even if that had led her to OSI, generally speaking the whole thing had been a disaster.

Roan and Raven worked well together, but that was it.  They were friends, but that was it.  

It was only natural that she got worried when he didn't check in on time.  When he missed the second check in, she wondered if she dared activate the tracker she'd put on him before he left.  Of course, there was a risk that this Ice Queen he'd gone after could track the signal too.  But after a week went by and they still didn't have word, she'd activated the tracker when she went home.  She figured if they did backtrack it, they'd just get her crappy apartment and not location of the base.  

Raven did not expect Roan to show up at her place six hours later.

She gaped at him after opening her door.  "Roan!  What are you-"

"Took you long enough," he told her smoothly, easing his way into her apartment and making himself at home on her couch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?  Where were you?"  Raven didn't even know what question to ask, but one thing was clear.  All her worry about his being captured and tortured by the Ice Queen was for absolutely nothing.  

"At my mother's, giving her the usual spiel about turning evidence into the OSI against the Council of Thirteen and enduring her usual spiel about returning to the Guild.  Once that was out of the way, we chatted, she asked invasive questions about my life.  All very normal family interactions.  All very boring," Roan assured her as he looked about her place.  "This place is terribly insecure.  How do you live here?"

Raven blinked.  "Your mother is the Ice Queen?"  

"Yes."  Roan cocked his head at her, gave her that infuriating smirk.  "Didn't you know that?"

"No," she denied hotly, slamming her door shut.  "I'm fairly sure that's above my classification level, as well you know!"

"Ah, well.  I am the former Ice Prince," he acknowledged.

"But now you're OSI.  Why?"  Raven damned well knew that crime, especially the crime on the level of the Ice Queen, paid very well indeed.  The OSI, for all its fancy trappings, was still a government position.

"I have a license to kill, Raven," Roan scoffed.  "The Guild encourages certain killings, of course, but here, I have an actual license.  And this way I can take out those members of the Guild who fail to follow guidelines, maybe fail to pay their dues."

It all became so clear for her.  Roan wasn't actually an OSI agent.  He was a deep cover Guild operative.  So much made sense for her now, how he'd come into the Office nearly fully-trained, how easily he'd understood how the Guild operated, how effective he was in the field.  He had information from both sides.  Of course he was effective.

But, he'd just blown his cover by coming here and telling her all this.

Frowning, she took a seat on the big chair, an overstuffed monstrosity she'd picked up on Craigslist a year ago.  It was ugly, but ungodly comfortable.  "Are you trying to recruit me for the Guild or something?" she wondered.

Roan chuckled.  "I've done nothing but indicate my interest in you, Raven Reyes, for two years, and now you think I just wanted to recruit you?"  He leaned forward.  "I've seen how you look at me.  You're interested, but won't let yourself admit it.  I just...gave you a nudge.  Thank you for activating my tracker."

Her face reddened and she sputtered.  "You let OSI think you're captured or killed just to see if I was interested in you?"

"Wanted to know if I'd wasted a couple of years.  I didn't think I did, but I got tired of waiting."  A smile curled over his face.  "And now that we've both established we're interested, why don't you go out with me, Raven Reyes?"

"What about OSI?  They still think you're missing."

"Perfect.  We won't be interrupted by a call from work."

Raven chuckled despite herself.  "What are you going to tell them when you turn up?"

"Oh, have to keep my bona fides for them, so a story about capture and interrogation and escape should help keep them convinced I am on their side."

"Well, how do you know I won't turn you in?" 

He sighed.  "Raven.  I perform a valuable service for OSI.  I take out the worst of the worst, villains who give the Guild a bad name.  Why would you want to interfere with that?"

She knew that, of course, but hearing it said aloud just cemented the thought.  Pursing her lips, she gave him a once over.  "How long before your impressive escape from the clutches of your mother?"

Roan considered the calendar.  "I've been gone a week.  I figure at least another three days."

"And you're rich, I take it?"

"Disgustingly."

"Own an island rich?"

He smiled widely.  "Oh yes."

Raven nodded and stood.  "I'll call in sick.  And pack my bikini."

"Sounds wonderful," Roan agreed.  "I'll make sure the plane is fueled and ready to go."

As she walked into her bedroom, she mused that maybe there were more perks to working at OSI than the toys.  You sometimes met the most fascinating people.


	6. Raven the Maven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the IceMechanic Fanfiction August Challenge: Ice Cream. Here's my Ice Mechanic take on Jane the Virgin.

He mutely offered over the small paper bag and when Raven opened it, she found a pint of dark chocolate ice cream and a spoon.

“This is literally the least you could do,” she grumbled from her seat on the tiled edge of the pool.  She had rolled up the jumpsuit so that her legs could hang in the water, as she tried to cool down both mentally and physically.  The pool that employees were forbidden from using, especially while in uniform, but she was operating in a “fuck it” mode and didn’t care if she got fired.

Well, she cared a little, but was pretty sure they wouldn’t fire her.  Not now.

“I agree,” Roan answered, pulling over one of the lounge chairs so he could sit on the edge, leaning his elbows on his knees.  In contrast to her grease-stained uniform, he was dressed smartly in a pair of jeans that probably cost more than her paycheck and a button-down white shirt that she was certain had been tailored to him.  

Raven dug the carton out of the bag, pulled off the top and dug in, closing her eyes in near relief as soon as the chocolate hit her mouth.  She ate about three mouthfuls in quick succession before she realized he was just watching her.

“What?” she demanded.  "I’m not going to agree to those terms just because you brought me ice cream.“

He snorted.  "Nor should you.  But I told my mother that the offer is going to be this: we will pay for your educational expenses, including the graduate school of your choice, as well as all fees and supplies, and living expenses for as long as you are in school.”

Raven sucked in a breath, the spoon pausing on its way to her mouth. As generous as it was, she felt only a hot rush of fury.  "Listen, Ice Prince,“ she retorted, using the moniker that the tabloids loved for the scion of the Azgeda Ltd. conglomerate.  "If I wouldn’t sell a baby for tuition, I’m not going to sell one for tuition plus.  Honestly, if you weren’t actually completely unable to have children unless I carry this thing to term, I’d be at a clinic right now getting unpregnant.”

The absurdity of the situation was not lost her.  She was a mechanic, working at the resort owned by his family, trying to put herself through school.  When she went to the gynecologist last month for her annual visit, she didn’t expect to get accidentally impregnated with the sperm that Roan Eisold had set aside before cancer treatments rendered him infertile.  

But in a series of errors worthy of a vaudeville act, his soon to be ex-wife had decided she’d get better alimony payments if she gave him the blood heir that was so important to both he and his mother.  The doctor’s office had mixed up their room assignments, and in less time than it usually took Raven to brush her hair in the morning, she’d gotten knocked up with the heir to a billion dollar fortune.  

While the Eisolds prepared a lawsuit against the doctor’s office, and used Echo’s scheme against her in the divorce proceedings, they were also trying to secure Raven’s agreement to continue the pregnancy as well as full custody of the baby after it was born.  And they were doing that they way they knew best - buying it.

Which was, of course, personally insulting.  

Not that Raven wanted a baby.  Ever.  Kids were not her thing.  It’s why she broke up with Wick, who wanted the all-American dream. She didn’t want the life he did.

But Roan wanted a child, and he’d done everything he could do to prevent cancer from taking that possibility away from him.  It wasn’t his fault she was pregnant and she felt sorry for him.  

Yeah, she, Raven Reyes, a kid raised on welfare, felt sorry for a billionaire.  Absurd wasn’t even the word for it.

If they had just offered to help her with the medical expenses, and you know, treated her like a person whose life was about to get fucked up for awhile, she’d have no problem handing over the baby whenever it popped out of her.

Instead, she had real doubts about giving what would be her kid over to folks who thought that they could buy people.

“When my mother called you in for a meeting, I didn’t know she was going to be offering you…that,” Roan tried to explain.  "After you stormed off, and rightfully so, I told her the deal would be to cover your tuition, living expenses and everything, but that was merely compensation for your unexpected pregnancy.  The agreement would not speak to custody at all.“

“What?” Raven shook her head as she lowered the spoon to the carton again.  "You…don’t want the baby now?“ she demanded angrily.

"I do.  But custody isn’t something we’re going to work out in your first trimester.”  He gave her a sardonic grin.  "I don’t want to have a baby with someone who is capable of selling their children.“

"Oh.”  That his thinking aligned with her own made Raven distinctly uneasy.  "So you pay for me to live and go to school for the next four years or so?“

"Yes.  And while you’re pregnant, we get to know one another, and you can figure out what you want.  If you want me to have the baby and you have nothing to do with it, or if you want me to have primary custody but you have visitation, or if you want a more equal split.”

“You’re not just going to bulldoze the way to what you want?” Raven asked skeptically.

Roan shook his head.  "I wanted a child and it sounds like I will get one.  I looked into your background once this happened and I have no issues moving forward with an intelligent, beautiful, hardworking woman who is lifting herself out of poverty.  The only question for me is how much you want to be involved with the baby.“  

A minute ago, she had absolutely known the answer to that question.

Now, as Raven eyed him appraisingly, she could honestly say she didn’t know.


	7. Raven the Maven - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because people asked for a second part of Raven the Maven and because I had an idea for October 2016's IceMechanic Fanfiction Prompt, which was "leaves." 
> 
> Thanks to @bfl1201 for the beta read.

By Raven’s count, they’d had a fight - or an argument - at least once every two days since she’d become accidentally inseminated with Roan’s sperm.  

It shouldn’t have been the turn-on that it was.  She’d blame the pregnancy hormones, which she blamed for almost everything else, but she was pretty confident that she’d find Roan just as attractive without them.

She was determined to win this latest argument over him missing the ultrasound appointment though, until he came in with a perfectly reasonable excuse.

Well, reasonable when you were the Ice Prince, heir to a giant fortune and had two dedicated paparazzi following you around town.  

“I’m sorry that your mother tried to pin Azedga’s crimes on you and you had to participate in a sting operation,” she began, trying to rein in her temper as she sat in one of the lounge chairs on the balcony of the condo.  Her home was another gift from Roan, complete with a gorgeous view for her and the baby to enjoy, even if today there were more leaves swirling in the air than on the branches of the trees.  "But..it had to be today?“

She had to at least try to win some point of the argument.

“Yes, before she could do more damage to the company,” Roan confirmed with a nod.  "I am sorry about the timing, but this means that she can’t interfere anymore with you either.“

"Well, that’s something,” Raven acknowledged, looking down at her distended belly.  She was only about halfway through the pregnancy but felt like she’d gained a hundred pounds, just from how tired the baby made her all the time.  She smoothed a hand over the bulge and added, “Thank you.  From both of us.”

“You were furious with me,” he replied, sitting down on the chair next to her own, picking up on her contrite tone of voice.

It was one of his annoying habits, to instantly understand her mood. Or greatest talent.  She hadn’t decided which yet.

“I…might have decided not to acknowledge you as the father for about a minute or so there,” she admitted, then fixed her gaze on him in challenge.  

“I would fight that,” he vowed, deadly serious.

“And you would lose.  The law is clear, which is why your lawyers constantly want me to sign that paternity agreement.”

He worked his jaw for a moment.  "I don’t give a shit about the law.  That’s my kid.“

There was something about the way he said it that warmed Raven to the core and soon, she found herself smiling at him.

"I need to know you’re serious about this.  Being a father.  Being there.  I don’t want this kid to ever feel unwanted.  I know you’re busy and important and all that, but if you’re not actually there to be a father…”  

She knew from personal experience how traumatizing that could be.

“I’m not saying I would resort to kidnapping my own child if you didn’t acknowledge me, but I would resort to kidnapping my own child.  If necessary,” he acknowledged with a shrug she knew was anything but nonchalant.  "But I will be there for this child.  I don’t intend to replace my mother at the company, only on the board.  We’ll hire another person to be the CEO.  I am happy to just have a supervisory role because soon, I’ll be a father with other responsibilities.“

It made her smile, his almost mercenary sensibility when it came to the kid.  "Okay then.”

“Okay,” he agreed, mirroring her expression for a moment.  Then he nodded to her abdomen.  "Did the appointment go well?  Is there anything I need to know?“

"I’m fine, the baby’s fine,” Raven informed him.

When she refused to add more, he pressed, “Did you see the baby?  Did they take a picture of the ultrasound?”

“You mean, did I find out the sex?”

He smiled slightly.  "I’m curious about that, but just getting to see the baby…I am sorry I missed that.“  

Roan sounded so disappointed, she decided not to tease him any longer.

Raven picked up the small print-out resting underneath her book on the little table to the side and handed it over.  "Congratulations,” she started to say as he took the picture reverently.

“It’s an asshole.  That right there?” she pointed out with a finger.  "That’s the butt.  Every time the doctor moved the wand around to try and get a better look, the baby would shift and moon us instead.“  Even as she’d been annoyed, she’d felt pretty impressed by the little person growing inside of her.

Roan chuckled, but the smile he turned on her was all pride.  "Really?  I like him already.  Or her.”

“Yeah.  Sounds like my kind of kid,” she agreed, looking down at the grey, white and black blobs that showed them the baby.

“Our kid,” he corrected and when she looked up, she saw his bright blue gaze fixed on her, not the picture.

“Our kid,” she agreed quietly.


End file.
